Chapter 19 Blue #2
“No doubt,” I agree. “Plus, it was easier for me to cup your tit and wrap my lips around your nipple.” At the mere suggestion, her nipples harden to peaks under the soft material of her long-sleeved t-shirt.
“So you kissed my breasts, too?” she asks, her words a little breathy. Liza likes to think she plays it cool and never shows her cards, but I know her tells.
“Kissed them, licked them, sucked them. Fuck, we should do that sometime,” I say, letting my hand trail over my abs as I watch this fake dream play out in my mind.
“We should let you suck on my breasts? I’m not opposed to that at all, but we’ve definitely done it before,” she says, letting her finger slip under her collar so she can toy with the strap of her bra.
I shake my head. “We should see if I can make you come like that. We should see how far we can take it, how wet and worked up you get just from having my mouth and fingers on those pretty tits. Fuck, they taste good,” I tell her.
The story I’m spinning is entirely made up, but the way her body turns me on is the absolute truth.
“Do you want to do that now?” she asks, and I damn well know that if I say yes, her shirt and bra will be in a pile on the floor in a matter of seconds.
“I need to tell you the rest of the dream,” I say, toying with the hem of my own shirt. I mess with it just enough to show her a little more of my torso. What good are all those workouts if I can’t watch the appreciation in Liza’s gaze as her eyes rake over me?
“Then you better start talking because our roommates are going to be home in about forty minutes.”
Time is of the essence, so I jump right back into the story. “I kissed my way down your stomach and then moved right to your thighs.”
“My thighs?” she questions, gesturing at her cotton-covered legs.
The woman wears sweats all the time, and I get it.
They’re comfy. But I’d be happy to pay the heating bill and crank the thermostat up to ninety degrees so she’d walk around in short shorts.
Her thighs are full and soft and they hug my hips just right when we’re tangled up in each other.
“Yep. Your thighs. I never pay them enough attention and I’m afraid they’re going to start feeling neglected. I’d hate that.”
“They’re not,” she says. “They’re fine. Other parts of me might though.”
“Is that why, in my dream, you cupped your hands around my cheeks and dragged my face up to your pussy? It all makes sense now.”
“Why do I love it when you say that word?” Liza asks. “I used to hate that word. It’s so weird. But you say it and suddenly—”
“Suddenly what? And just so we’re clear, what word exactly? I’m trying to remember what I said. Thighs? Stomach?”
“My pussy,” she answers impatiently, and I feel a fucking jolt right in my dick. God, she’s hot. I love that Liza gets playful with me, and I especially love it because she doesn’t show this side of herself to anyone else.
“Right, right. Your pussy. Yeah, that’s where my face ended up. And I was not complaining. Neither were you, come to think of it.”
Liza shifts in her seat. “This is the dream you want me to interpret? You fall from a cliff into my bed and then put your face between my legs. And you want me to tell you why that’s significant?”
“Give me some credit, DeWalt. I didn’t just stick my face there and fall asleep.
I’m no fool. I put my hands on the backs of those thighs I like so much and I spread you wide.
Then I started to kiss all the soft flesh around your center.
You started squirming when my mustache tickled all your sensitive spots, but don’t worry, I distracted you. ”
“How’d you do that?” she asks, biting down on her lip.
“I pressed my thumb to your clit and started rubbing circles over it. Tight little circles. Fuck me, you were already wet, so I had to taste you, too. I hate to know if you taste as good as you smell.”
Her lips part as she lets out a gasp, and I know it’s because of the words I’m using.
I’m no expert at dirty talk, but Liza gets a little shocked in the very best way when I’m direct about what I’m doing.
I don’t use words as shields and I’m not going to be coy when I talk about what happens between us.
I want her to know in no uncertain terms exactly how hot her body is and the effect it has on me.
That’s why I can’t resist stroking the length of my hard cock against my jeans as I close my eyes and picture us doing what I’ve been describing.
“I was wet for you?” she asks. “Maybe I was having a sex dream of my own before you fell into my bed. Maybe I was picturing you doing all those wicked things to me. And maybe, in my dream, I got to do them in return.”
I squeeze my cock because holy fuck do I want that.
It doesn’t just bend the rules, it outright breaks them.
And this arrangement is about Liza. I can’t forget that.
Any pleasure I receive is secondary, but it’s so damn hot to fantasize about what it would be like if Liza put her mouth on me.
If she ran her thumb over the head of my cock.
If she licked at the precum that’s pooling in my boxers right fucking now.
“Oh, god,” she gasps, knocking me out of my dirty daydream to watch as she slips her hand into the waistband of her sweats. Sweet Jesus, is she trying to kill me right now?
My eyes are locked on her movements and I watch with rapt fascination as she dips her finger lower. She slowly drags it up and brings it to my lips and it’s al I can do not to fucking unload right here and now.
“You did it,” she says, painting my bottom lip with her desire. “You made me wet just by talking about it.”
I feel invincible, but I’m not done yet. “I need to touch you,” I say, not bothering to hide the desperation in my voice. “I need to watch you come apart right here when anyone could walk right in and catch us.”
My hands drift over her hips as I watch her stiffen slightly. I knew that bringing up the possibility of getting caught was dicey, but that's the point of this, right? To see if the risk heightens her sensations.
“What if somebody walks through that door right now?” I ask, my hand skimming the elastic band of her joggers. “Could you hide what I do to you? If I tuck my hand away and duck over to the pantry, could you sit here and pretend that everything’s normal and you’re not fucking dripping for me?”
Liza spreads her legs as wide as the chair will let her, granting me access and holy freaking hell she’s soaked for me.
Her lips are swollen and she’s so damn wet that I turn my hand and slip two fingers into her entrance.
She moans at the contact and I have to physically restrain myself from brushing my lips over hers.
God, I want to kiss her right now. It feels so natural to want to connect in that way, but I have to remind myself that that’s not what I’m here for.
She pumps her hips, urging me to start moving my fingers, and so I do.
I’m tempted to drop to my knees, but I’m being selfish because I want to watch her face and body as she takes her pleasure.
This angle is pressing my dick against my jeans in the most painful way possible, but that’s probably for the best. Once again, this is about her, not me.
But when my name falls from her lips on a sigh, it’s damn hard to remember that.
“Blue,” she pants again, almost whining as I increase the rhythm and the pressure.
My thumb keeps working her clit as my fingers drive into her.
There’s nothing new or revolutionary about what I’m doing, but it feels damn good anyway.
And the way her eyes are fluttering and her pulse is skittering?
I want more of that. “Shhh,” I say, playing up the danger angle, even though we’ve got plenty of time until anybody comes home.
“What would somebody think if they walked in here right now?”
“They’d think you’re good with your hands,” Liza says, wrapping her slender fingers around my wrist. “But they’d also think I need more. That I need you to—”
“You need more? If I give you much more, Tiger, you’re going to squirt all over my hand and then we’ll both be soaked. Damn, that would be hot, though.”
Liza’s eyes are comically wide. “That’s a real thing? I don’t think that’s a real thing. I think it’s just a tactic to sell women’s magazines.”
“It’s real,” I promise. “Just relax and let me get you there.”
“You want me to relax?” she asks, her inner muscles choking the life out of my fingers. “That’s impossible when you have me so worked up.”
Before I can get her out of her own head, a series of unmistakable beeps cuts through the air.
Holy fuck. Somebody’s entering the alarm code.
We share a look of panic before I do the only thing I can think of, and drag us both under the table.
We’re completely still and totally silent for a minute while the guys walk through the door and drop their bags in the entryway.
Thank fuck for Deano’s weird-ass tablecloth because it’s sheltering us now as Mickey bounds into the kitchen and over to the fridge.
I swear the guy doesn’t walk—he bounces.
It takes a second for the guys to raid the pantry, but soon they’re trooping their way out of the kitchen.
I’m praying they take their little party upstairs to Ollie’s old room.
The freshmen turned it into a gaming cave after Ollie and Fallon got married in Vegas and it would be the perfect hang out spot for the guys right now.
Actually, anywhere would be fine. They could chill in the garage or jumping in the freezing cold pool for all I care.
I just need them the hell away from this kitchen.